


"Too Hot"

by orphan_account



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, Kink Meme, M/M, Making Out, PWP, Pre-Deposition, Sexual Frustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 12:38:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"too hot: A game where the two players kiss without stopping and without touching each other. If one player touches the other, s/he loses. The winner gets to do whatever s/he wants to the loser." (from Urban Dictionary)</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Too Hot"

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted for the tsn-kinkmeme on livejournal, roughly a million years ago. completely shameless drabble. unbeta'ed

Lamplight dramatizes the hollows of Mark’s face as they sit across from each other in the otherwise empty dorm. They've each polished off their first beer and are on their way through a second. A shiver of something close to bravery runs through Eduardo. 

His internal clock tells him roughly an eternity has passed since either of them spoke. They’ve only done something like this a handful of times; few enough that Eduardo still can’t wrap his head around the fact that he’s allowed to feel this way, to touch Mark. He still can’t believe that Mark won’t dismiss him if he tries to hold his hand (in private of course) or even kiss him, if he wanted to.

Eduardo takes another swig from his beer. Mark mirrors the action.

“This is something people do for fun?” Mark gives him a blank stare, inflection tinged with an idle sort of curiosity.

“I guess so?” Eduardo grins self-consciously into the smooth lip of his Bud Lite, “I heard about it,” he gestures with his hand, “It was some place online.”

“And you want to play…the two of us?” Mark’s eyes flicker over his face.

A full-bodied fit of laughter catches Eduardo off guard, despite Mark’s look of confusion. “Yes, Mark. Who else could I possibly want to be playing this with?”

Mark shrugs noncommittally, failing to meet his eyes. This time, Eduardo’s chest warms as well as his cheeks. The nervous jitters in his legs and fingertips haven’t gone away, but Eduardo can see a similar uncertainty in Mark’s eyes.

“Ok.” Mark nods at last. His hands come to a halt awkwardly mid-air. He’s without his jacket or hoodie, dressed in a simple t-shirt. Stranded. Mark places his hands gingerly on his folded knees.

“Ok, yea,” Eduardo shakes himself from the initial shock.

On shaky legs, he maneuvers himself across the rug in order close the distance between them so that their knees almost touch. Eduardo tucks his own hands safely in the space between his legs, crisscrossed Indian-style, and looks up with a smile.

In a move that surprises both of them, Mark closes the gap to press a brief but solid kiss to Eduardo’s upper lip.

When he pulls back, Eduardo can feel his stomach swooping. Eduardo then leans over and angles his head to capture Mark’s mouth with a soft noise. The lamp silhouettes their bodies to form a triangle. Noses brush as Eduardo pulls away, exhaling against Mark’s cheek.

A back and forth develops, a push and pull that they slowly settle into. Even without the use of his hands, Mark manages to dictate their pace- to which Eduardo readily concedes.

It’s the most luxurious kind of torture and Eduardo’s yearns to touch and be touched, hyper aware of every inch separating them. He’s forced to imagine the feeling of Mark’s hands, of Mark’s skin, of the hard line of Mark’s erection.

When their lips momentarily part with a wet smack, Eduardo feels what little hesitation he had left dissipate. He leans deeper into the kiss (the kiss that he technically isn’t allowed to stop) and loses himself in the subtle ways Mark’s breathing changes as his heart beats faster.

Eduardo kisses him slow, Mark’s normally stiff posture loosening considerably. Eduardo feels as if his brain has been liquefied, with one resilient island of a thought remaining, focused entirely on Mark Zuckerberg’s tongue against his own.

His hands twist desperately in his lap.

Then Mark whines in frustration. He surges forward, nearly toppling Eduardo over, who forgets himself long enough to reach out, only to return to his lap with a groan.

“Wardo-“ Mark finally rumbles hot into the kiss, lips shining. Eduardo notices Mark’s own hands have now moved from his knees to roughly grip the nubby threads of the carpet. His voice comes out thin and strained, “Wardo, this is ridi-”

“Can’t,” Eduardo murmurs between kisses, giddy with the knowledge of Mark's impatience, “Can't stop. Rules.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Mark’s grip tighten.

Eduardo’s knuckles barely brush the denim of Mark’s jeans. He can already feel himself getting close. His jaw muscles ache. He knows Mark hates losing. Eduardo also knows how effortlessly he could allow his fingertips to ghost over Mark’s wonderfully bear arms, run down the smooth cotton stretched over his chest.

Eduardo could so easily crawl over and straddle Mark’s thighs. The thought makes him lightheaded.

He mindlessly nips at the thick flesh of Mark’s lower lip. He can picture the spot where Mark’s own teeth have bitten down so often before.

Eduardo shifts even further forward, testing the limits, and sighs something very closely resembling Mark’s name, and it’s over.

Suddenly, Mark’s broad, amazing hands are on him. One pulls at his hip and the other artlessly grips his arm. Eduardo’s own palms envelope Mark’s soft, soft soft skin in turn. His hands greedily follow the lines of Mark’s body.

Long fingers are on his neck, pulling at the strands of Eduardo’s hair and Eduardo believes he might come then and there.

“Wait,” he pants. Eduardo is taken aback by the sound of his own voice. His left leg might have fallen asleep and his lips almost sting; yet he’s smiling. For a moment, Eduardo can’t seem to piece together why they stopped. Mark looks down at him skeptically.

Then it dawns on Eduardo. He won. “I won,” Eduardo marvels aloud. Ever the graceful loser, Mark rolls his eyes. Eduardo grins, looking uncharacteristically pleased with himself, “Rules are rules.”

 

+

 

A humiliating wheezing-gasp rattles through Mark’s chest, his body tensing, arms stuck in straight lines.

“Oh God,” he curses, as Eduardo takes the tip of Mark’s cock into his mouth. His takes hold of the base with conviction. Eduardo reaches another hand up to slide over Mark’s torso, pushing up his shirt. After a few tentative slides, Eduardo lowers his mouth slowly and pulls back up. His eyes slip closed.

Eduardo’s breathing through his nose stutters against Mark’s erection. Fingers card through the light hairs on Mark’s thighs.

Mark silently counts to ten. He wants desperately to place his hands on the back of Eduardo’s neck.

The muscles in his abdomen begin to tense. He has to warn Eduardo but instead of his voice, an alien squeak comes out. Eduardo only quickens his pace, securely fastening Mark’s hips to the couch.

He pulls off mere seconds before Mark comes; legs are still bound by the jeans around his ankles, finger clenching and unclenching uselessly at couch cushion.

Looking down at Eduardo through the haze, Mark decides this game might not be so bad afterall.


End file.
